


I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

by daniko



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Avengers, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniko/pseuds/daniko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Figuring he had already sold his soul to Pepper ten times over, Tony didn’t worry too much about what she would ask of him when he least expected or wanted to, and threw an impromptu party in his workshop, placing holographic flower crowns on his robots and himself, and shaking the booty to a <i>Concerning Hobbits</i>' electronic remix.... And that was how Steve found him later on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cameron_McKell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cameron_McKell/gifts).



> Prompt: "Tony and Steve make a bet, to be settled the next time they fight villains. Steve wins, but his request surprises Tony."
> 
> EDIT 13.01.2015: I noticed some errors, both grammar and continuity, so I took the time to correct them. Sorry!

_The Hobbit: Battle of Five Armies_ premiered for the gentlefolk of New York on December, 4th of 2014.

When he got word of the news, Tony Stark decided he had to be there.

Sitting at the kitchen counter in his penthouse in New York, Tony said, “Ms. Potts, I have to be there,” through the camera feed on his smartphone.

It was unusual that this time of the year would not find Tony Stark in California, but that was Ms. Potts’ domain now. Tony had decided two years ago that Pepper should keep the West Coast “in the divorce” as it housed Stark Industries HQ. The R&D Department would be, and then was, uprooted to Stark Tower and remained Tony’s domain.

Tony’s SHIELD-issued therapist would be proud to see how well Tony managed his break-up.

Or so Tony thought. He had only met the man once.

And he and Pepper hadn’t had the most normative of relationships to begin with.

On his screen, Pepper was pinching the bridge of her nose. “Tony, I know you like the franchise, but I have no way of—.”

“Like? Pepper, Pepper, Pepper, seasoning of my life, I don’t think you understand. I have to be there!”

The premiere was a joyous occasion for the fans of Tolkien’s Legendarium, as it was likely the last film ever to be set on Middle Earth. (If one didn’t count the Tony Stark’s super secret strategy to lobby for _The Silmarillion_ ’s TV adaptation.) Tony _had to_ be there.

Pepper sighed.

It came through slightly distorted, which made Tony look up to see, as expected, the elevator doors slid open. It was – Tony looked at clock on his smartphone – three in the morning.

Pepper was saying, “I’ll talk to your publicist to see what she can do, but—,” when Tony interrupted her with, “Hold on, Pepper. My adulterous housemate just came home like a thief in the night.”

Tony saw Pepper look up as if in prayer before he placed the small device against his juice pitcher. He turned towards Captain America. “Well, Cap? Don’t I deserve at least one flimsy excuse? I’ll pretend to believe you when you tell me you were making passionate love to one of the two other women in your life, both of whom can, and will, one day kill you with their thighs—.

“Tony!”

“—I always knew you had it in you, it’s always the quiet ones, I won't even call bullshit, because, you see, it’s a little sad that you keep cruising the streets of New York in search of your long-lost boyfriend, who’s not so lost anymore, and who you have no reason to believe is in the city that doesn’t sleep or that he wants to be f—.”

Patience gone, Steve barked, “Goddamn, Tony!”

“Right, that’s my cue,” was Pepper’s muffled reply. “I’ll be in touch about the invitation for _The Hobbit_ premiere, Tony. I might even get you a Plus One.” There was the telltale series of beeps that indicated Pepper was adding an appointment to her schedule. “And stop being an asshole, if you can? Talk to you tomorrow. Love you.”

Tony replied, absently, “Love you, too,” before Pepper ended the connection. His mind was already on the disappointed pout Captain America’s was now wearing and the sideways slant of his eyes. He was clearing waiting for an apology. When Steve got like this, demanding and spoiled, Tony just wanted to pinch his butt and kiss his pout away.

Tony’s would-be therapist would probably say that Tony was sublimating his feelings for Captain America, because when Steve got like this _on the field_ , expecting his orders to be obeyed and his (strategic) needs seen to, Tony just wanted to wring his sculptural little neck.

Entitled asshole.

Precious little twink. (At 6'2'', that was saying something.)

To add insult to injury, it was not that Steve wasn’t right most of the time.

So Tony acted like an asshole sometimes.

It took him a while to realize Steve wasn’t alone and, when he did realize, he got up in alarm and came to stand next to Steve in the communal den. (Not that Steve or anyone knew why this floor was “communal” and Tony wasn’t going to tell for a while yet. He quite liked Steve in his guest bedroom.) "Why are these people in my living room, Cap?"

Hawkeye and Deadpool were sitting on his couch. They were armed to the teeth and looked like they had just been in a scuffle. They looked between Tony and Steve, Hawkeye with a slight frown, Deadpool with a growing grin. Uh. Why didn’t he put his mask on properly?

Pepper would have had a conniption if she had seen this.

Whereas Steve was the one bringing home strays.

Not that those two things were in any way related. Tony sometimes liked to make these comparisons, seeing as the two were likely to be, although in different aspects, the longest relationships Tony would ever have. (Also, Tony might be carrying an Olympic-sized torch for Captain America and it was unlikely he would ever see it returned.)

Steve sighed, "Tony."

Hawkeye's frown became more pronouced. “When did this happen? I thought you guys didn’t get along.”

Tony ignored him and Steve’s blushing glare. "No, I’m serious. We haven't set sight on this guy since the Chitauri Invasion—."

Clint Barton bristled in indignation. "Excuse you! One, I wasn't gonna show up after you gave your home address to a terrorist! Two, none of you had the courtesy of even calling me before Cap and Nat took down my cash cow!"

"—so I want to know why he's showing up at my door right now!" Tony demanded, crossing his arms. "My tower is not a hotel! Not to mention I've got bigger issues to deal with, specifically said Intelligence organization that you took down in May, leaving me to pack resources, and people, and clean-up the mess you start—.”

“They just need a place to lay low for a while, Tony!” Steve threw up his hands in frustration. It was something Tony was used to seeing him do in Tony’s general vicinity when they were at home. “We’re a team. We help each other out when needed.”

“This is no time for strays!" It was Tony's home, Tony's space, and he didn’t want to share it with anyone but Steve!

Deadpool cooed, "Aw, you wanna feed me and give me a bath?" with a shit-eating grin. Tony longed for his repulsors.

Steve seemed to be praying for patience. "Wade."

"No, it’s okay, I get it. See, I don't even want to be here. I didn’t even want Hawkguy—."

"Hawkeye!"

"—here to tag along, but he insisted—."

"Hey, I got the pen drive, not you! And Kate found Ellsden’s apartment!" shouted Clint. Naturally, Tony had to reach for his smartphone to see what was their deal. 

Deadpool leaned forward, saying slowly, "Yeah, but you two also let the hacker dude die, so." Clint glared.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose when Tony gestured wildly between Clint and Deadpool. They were proving his point remarkably well. "Look," Steve said, "if you don't them to stay here, they can crash at my place."

Tony bristled, pointing at Steve with the device in his hands. "That dumpster in Brooklyn that SHIELD gave you? You said you wouldn't go back there!"

Steve pursed his lips, eyes narrowing. "No, I didn't. You said I wasn't allowed to go back there. I never agreed with it."

Tony groaned, "Okay, fine!” He gestured at Hawkeye and Deadpool. “They can stay.” Tony held out his phone to Steve with the news headlines on the screen. “But just because they got their asses kicked by a Captain America groupie and that's too awesome not to tell."

Clint groaned, "Jesus fucking Christ, how hard was that?" He turned to Steve. "Thanks, Cap!"

“It’s my house you're staying at,” Tony felt the need to point out.

"Yay, sleepover!" crowed Deadpool, clapping his hands together in delight.

Steve placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder, grinning. “Thanks, Tony.”

As if Tony was ever going to deny Steve anything. It seemed to be a Stark men’s affliction. He hadn’t seen the guy in two years, except for the occasional message checking in, but when Steve showed up at his door mid-August in wee morning hours, hair wet from the rain and only a duffel bag to his name, well. Tony knew he had some issues that needed to be put to rest.

What Tony hadn’t expected was Steve Rogers to be as compelling for adult-Tony as Captain America had been for his little six-year-old self. He wished Jarvis could see it.

“I’ll get you guys something to eat,” Steve offered over his shoulder, heading to the kitchen island.

“So, did we hear that you’re gonna see wee Hobbits fight dragons, man?” Deadpool asked, in what was… an attempt at polite conversation?

It sent bells ringing in alarm Tony’s head. And here Tony had thought he had lost his common sense during his mid-thirties perpetual bender. “Yeees?” he drawled, lifting his eyebrows.

Deadpool crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back with a satisfied grin. “If it were me, I’d make an event out of it!”

“What do you mean?” Tony could see Steve in the kitchen island, trying to hide a smile. Asshole.

“I bet everyone is gonna be marathoning all the movies before December.”

Tony hesitated. “Are you trying to nerd-cred me into watching _The Lord of the Rings_ right now?”

“I like my popcorn with butter!” He looked over the couch at Steve. “Thanks, mom!”

That was how Tony found himself doing a half-assed _Lord of the Rings_ marathon with Captain America, Hawkeye, and Deadpool.

Due to intelligence given by an identified source, the Black Widow showed up halfway through _The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers_. She ruffled the hair on Steve's head with more affection than expected, which seemed to upset Barton as much as it upset Tony. After that, neither of them paid much attention to the movie, instead talking in low voices about what Tony presumed to be Steve's missing buddy.

Tony would rather have watched the trilogy with Thor again, he thought sullenly. At least Thor had not only made a point of visiting Tony on his way back from London, as he’d had some relevant insight to offer about the characters.

As Legolas Greenleaf and Gimli, son of Glóin, were discussing their standing bet after the Battle of Pelennor Fields, and Tony would deny to his dying day knowing the name of it, Deadpool asked, "So, do you guys ever do that?"

Steve asked, "What do you mean?"

"Ya know, do you guys ever bet on how many bad guys you can take down?"

Nudging Barton with her foot, Natasha hummed in confirmation, as Clint said, “Yep.”

Tony and Steve exchanged a glance.

“Uh, nope? Because it’s wrong to bet on people’s lives? And to be distracted by maths on the battlefield?” said Tony, looking at Steve to confirm that his morals were working. 

Except that Steve had the most peculiar look on his face. “The Commandos used to have a standing bet about who could take out the most enemies during our raids, using the least bullets. Whoever won got to have first pick at dinner.”

Tony felt the strangest urge to close his eyes in denial. Maybe if he pretended he wasn’t hearing this, watching it live as the disaster happened, he would wake up six years ago without a scarred chest and with a freckled strawberry blond waiting for him with breakfast... or, better yet, he would wake up tomorrow, still with a scarred chest, a team of misfits, and a suit of armor, but with another messy blond waking him up with sexual favors. (Tony might have a type.)

Natasha hummed. “Did you have fun?”

Steve narrowed his eyes at her. 'Fun'? Taking into account Steve’s behavioral patterns, Tony estimated he would accept the unspoken challenge in approximately 2.3 minutes. Natasha seemed to have also identified this deficit of impulse control in Steve.

“What do you say, Tony?” Steve turned to Tony, a fetching flush on his cheeks and an expectant look in his eyes. Tony wanted to go down on him, to see if he would look as delectable as he did right now. Alas, he settled for staring a moment. Was this hell? Steve continued, “Strategically speaking, it makes sense to have Natasha against Clint, Thor against the Hulk, and you against me.” Hmm, Tony would indeed like to be against Steve, but not in regards to the bet. “It could be fun! It’d be good for team-building. We could keep score. The loser would owe a favor to the winner. Anything goes, as long as the winner can give it."

“Yep, that’s how we do it,” said Clint. “We exchange,” he looked sideways at Natasha, “ _favors_." Tony could guess which kind of favors. "And it does help with team-building. We’re closer than ever before.” There was a hint of sarcasm in Clint’s words, so Tony guessed he wasn’t the only one sporting a massive unrequited crush for a badass bombshell.

Steve sat up straight, grinning. "So, is it on?"

Considering the kind of favors Clint and Natasha exchanged, maybe they were onto something. 

It wasn’t like any of them could expect to have a long-term relationship with civilians. Which left painfully few and painfully crazy people as an option. Not that Tony would be that big of an asshole and ask Steve for sexual favors. He had been to enough Sexual Harassment In Workplace seminars to know it “was wrong” and hey: he was not quite at the lecherous-old-man stage of his life, even though he had no doubt he’d get there someday. Hopefully, with a (blond) steady partner.

Just asking Steve for a regular hang-out date would be nice. They could play some basketball. Between Tony and Steve, that was the most Tony could aim for. Friendship. (Men like him didn’t get to have sexy self-righteous idealists without paying a heavy price. Ask Pepper Potts.)

Or Tony could ask Steve to move in! He could paint it in patriotic colors, say it would be good for the team, the team could also move in... and if, as a consequence, Tony got himself a bunch of live-in friends, well then. He could say they needed headquarters, whatever he could come up with.... He would give Steve the floor below the penthouse, as planned. Tony could wake up to see Steve every day, sweaty and messy from jogging, or having breakfast in the communal kitchen. They could have dinner together every night!

It was a simple request: to have Steve around. Mutually beneficial even. Perhaps.

Maybe it would give Tony the opportunity to convince Steve that Tony Stark was worth his time.

*

As expected, SHIELD was, due to Captain America’s unexpected willfulness, in pieces. No matter how competent Director Hill and Deputy Director Coulson were, SHIELD’s human and technological resources had been depleted. The organization thus relied on Stark Industries’ R&D Department. (It was perhaps one of the reasons Tony had decided to transplant the tech-oriented half of his company to New York.) And also on the few agents that still remained operative, including the Avengers.

Since they had already been privy to the case, Captain America pulled some strings to have the Avengers assigned as backup the next time Clint and Deadpool got a lead during their rather unusual investigations.

As far as Tony was concerned and since he and Murphy’s Law were old buddies, he was not surprised when Felicia Hardy and friends sent a wave of brainwashed thugs after Hawkeye and Deadpool, leaving Tony no choice but to hop in his suit of armor and intervene. Against Captain America’s orders.

*

When Tony woke up, his first thought was, “Fuck, this is awkward.” The second was, “Ouch.”

“Nat said to keep you lying still,” said Clint’s disembodied voice. “I don’t wanna get up, so _lie still_.”

Tony lifted his head, just about the only part of him that _didn’t_ hurt, to see Clint sitting on the chair next to his bed. Going by the ugly gray of the walls, they were in SHIELD’s Medical Bay. So they had been recovered by SHIELD at some point after Tony lost consciousness and were now on the Helicarrier 2.0. (It was a courtesy of Tony Stark and Stark Industries’ manufacture division, because Tony had a fucked up relationship with Captain America’s baby blues.) Tony wondered who was the sucker assigned to deal with clean-up and criminal arrests, since Coulson was out of the action.

And so was Tony, although not for something as prestigious as being appointed Deputy Director of SHIELD.

Memory came back with a vengeance at the thought. Tony groaned aloud.

Sliding down his chair now that Tony seemed to be – ‘seem’ being the operative word – listening to his survival instincts, Clint snickered. “Man. I know. It was some Tolkien shit right there, right? You really did get knocked out by a blow to the head and lost half the battle!”

“That wasn't a battle,” Tony protested, but it lacked passion. There wasn’t enough life in him at the moment to be passionate about anything. Give him a few minutes with Steve Rogers and he’d be right as rain.

Clearly bearing psionic abilities that he was lying about, Clint added with deceptive casualness, “Cap had to punch his way through the drones and then carry you, bridal style in case you’re wondering—” Tony wasn’t. “—to SHIELD’s paramedics.”

Thanks to that piece of information, Tony wanted to knock himself unconscious again, preferably by butting his head against the wall. Sighing, he asked, “Where is he?”

Clint smirked. “On the bed to your left.”

Tony blinked and turned his head to the side to see Steve lying in one of SHIELD’s tortuous beds, sleeping as if he was lying on a cloud. His blond hair was a mess; there was blood, soot and dirt all over his uniform and his face. He held his shield partway beneath him, like the world’s most uncomfortable teddy bear.

Tony wanted to lie next to him and kiss that little clean spot on his neck.

“He was awake at first, waiting for you to wake up, but I guess the effort caught up with him.” If Tony remembered correctly, and he always did, the serum could knock Steve out for a while when he was healing. Clint continued, “Even for Captain America, it’s kind of awesome that he managed to get to you and then go after Black Cat. I think she’s hissing at SHIELD Agents somewhere in the lower levels.”

Tony hummed. For some reason, he seemed unable to stop looking at Steve. “Is he—?”

“Cuddling the shield?” Clint clarified, buffing his nails on his shirt. “Yep!”

“That’s—.”

“Adorable, I know.” Clint made a show of sighing in resignation. “Dude is 6'2'' and sleeps like a little angel. It’s almost offensive.”

Offensive was not the word Tony had thought of.

Speaking of which, “So, did I…?”

“Yeah, sorry, man. You lost the bet.”

Tony thumped his head against the pillow. Great! Pity he couldn’t cross his arms, if the soreness around the area of his ribs was of any sign. He’d had such a good chance of winning. There was a lesson in this somewhere that Tony was going to ignore as soon as he figured it out.

Now he could wave goodbye to ‘round the clock access to Captain America’s perfect body and matching soul.

When Clint left to get them some dinner that was worth the name, Tony was left with Steve sleeping beside him. Tony, who was yet to find a romantic bone in his body, noticed Steve’s breathing pattern – soft and deep – and that his lashes were about six/seven millimeters long, if one ignored the pronounced curvature. There were a few freckles on his nose. His lips seemed to be the color of the strawberries Pepper was allergic to.

Tony would have expected Captain America’s instincts to be better than to keep on sleeping if some creep was looking at him while he slept. Likely, it was taking him more effort to heal because of his self-imposed sleep deprivation. Tony saw him leaving often through the cameras, with Natasha or Wilson or both. Not that he watched. (He did.) 

Clint came back with the remaining Avengers and paper bags from McDonald’s. On a regular occasion, Tony would have waxed lyrical about greasy food. Alas, as Steve’s eyes drifted open, Tony found a whole new subject to wax lyrical about.

Judging by their smirks, he suspected the rest of the Avengers, just like Clint, carried telepathic abilities they were lying about.

*

Tony might have gone into hiding after that.

“Hello, denial, my old friend,” he sang to himself, as he ordered a coffeemaker to keep in the workshop and three large pizzas that should, all things being equal, last him through winter. Tony was a Stark: he knew about winters.

Things were not equal: Bruce and Natasha decided to visit.

Unbelievable. Tony hadn’t set sight on any of them for _two years_. Captain America started wreaking havoc in NYC and all the kids came back home. They were all wrapped around mama’s little finger, that’s what they were. It was mildly insulting and Tony would have resented them if he weren’t so stupidly happy to have them all underfoot in his guest rooms.

“So, do you think Thor and I could use the gym in the 80th floor without destroying half the tower?” Bruce was asking.

Thor had won the bet against Hulk and had asked for a green sparring partner as his favor. Clint had won against Natasha, no one quite knew how, because Natasha was scary-efficient, and no one wanted to know how she was going to pay it off. (Well. Tony did want to know, but he was also afraid of knowing.)

After Tony confirmed that yes, they could use it, because it was reinforced against Iron Man’s suit, Natasha asked, “Did Steve asked for his favor already?” He hadn’t. “Hmm.”

Tony hated when she did this, humming thoughtfully with her mocking little smile. She was in the know with Steve. Okay. _Fine_. No need to rub it in.

Tony didn’t even know why he was so disappointed. You couldn’t lose what you never had to begin with. He hadn’t won the bet, but Steve still lived in one of Tony’s guest rooms for the time being. So he wasn’t Steve’s best buddy. They had hated each other on sight! Everything Tony managed to get now was already a step up from then.

Tony should probably appreciate that he could sneak peeks into Steve’s arrivals and departures – sweaty and flushed after his jogs, in form-fitting black during his Winter Soldier expeditions, clean and proper when he went out with Wilson and wasn’t that a hard pill to swallow – and his occasional trips around the house in a wet towel or PJs.

Tony couldn’t even explain why those last two were on the same level. (That was a lie. He knew why: he was stupid over Steve.)

It wasn’t until days later that Steve appeared on Tony’s workshop.

It wasn’t often that Steve showed up at Tony’s place, but Tony found he liked the sight of Steve next to his bots. All his favorite things in one place.

As Steve took a stroll around the room, touching things with careful fingers, Tony realized his hands were shaking. Uh. He probably needed a drink. (He hadn’t had one in eight months.) He had to put down his tools as he talked to Steve. “So, Cap? What brings you to my lair?”

Steve glanced around with curiosity one last time. After a long stare aimed at DUM-E, who shamelessly waved at him, the desperate open-end wrench, Steve turned towards Tony. There was a fetching blush in his cheeks. It made his eyes bluer. Tony was suddenly elated about the lighting in the workshop.

“I was thinking,” Steve started. He rubbed his neck in embarrassment, turning his eyes downwards, before looking back up at Tony from under his lashes. Tony thought of doing unspeakable things to him. “I would like if you hosted a holiday party for the Avengers. You know, as payment for my winning the first round. Not Christmas, I imagine you would like to see Ms. Potts—.”

Tony did have a standing invitation to spend Christmas with Pepper and her mom, even if they weren’t together. Rodhey usually came along, too, and Happy spent the holidays with his sister.

Steve continued, “—so how about New Year’s? We could have dinner and maybe exchange Christmas gifts. But you have to be there too, no excuses,” he insisted.

As if Tony would pass the opportunity to ogle Steve in his clean-cut, All-American glory. If he played his cards right and placed the mistletoe correctly, he might even get a taste of that pretty smile. (He wouldn’t, but it was a nice thought.)

“You got it, Cap.”

Steve blinked in surprise. He was probably expecting more of a fight, but if there was something Tony had learned from his relationship with Pepper was that you couldn’t expect to have people’s friendship if you didn’t give something back. Affection was like currency in a capitalist system: in theory, you got as much as you worked for, but there were always those who got lucky. Tony didn’t have such luck.

“You don’t have to do it all by yourself,” Steve added. “I thought I could help you plan the party.” He flashed Tony a rueful smile. “You probably have people that do this for you, but I thought we could keep it simple and do it ourselves. What do you think?”

Was his luck changing? Could it be that Murphy’s Law had taken a holiday like everyone in his godforsaken Christian country? Tony wanted to crow in delight. What did he think? Oh, Tony thought it was a great idea! He thought he had just got a date out of Steve Rogers during the holiday season. It was meant to be and, by ‘it’, Tony meant a harmless slice of wooing.

* * *

In the beginning of December, as Tony was busy not glaring at the security feed where he watched Steve and Natasha talk to each other on Tony’s couch with their heads bent together, Pepper called with some good news:

“I have got you an invitation to _The Hobbit_ premiere and I expect I will collect the favor soon. I’ll let you know how.”

Figuring he had already sold his soul to her ten times over, Tony didn’t worry too much about what she would ask of him when he least expected or wanted to, and threw an impromptu party in his workshop, placing holographic flower crowns on his robots and himself, and shaking the booty to a _Concerning Hobbits_ ' electronic remix.... And that was how Steve found him later on.

They decided, more or less in consensus, never to speak of it again—

Eyes wide and mouth slack with surprise, Steve breathed, “Was that—?”

Tony crossed his arms in front of where the arc reactor used to be. “No.”

Steve’s grin was taking over his whole face. “Tony.”

Tony hid his blush by tinkering with a few bits and bobs on his work table. “Nope, not talking about it.” He glanced sideways at Steve.

Eyes bright and beautiful, Steve outright laughed. Tony felt his lungs expand if their own accord as if his feelings were too large to fit his chest. (Maybe they were.) “Okay,” said Steve. Judging by the wicked gleam in Steve’s eyes, Tony was sure he was going to pay for his carelessness sooner or later.

“Okay,” said Tony. Embarrassment forgotten due to the expression on Steve’s face, Tony turned to face Steve and leaned back on his worktable. There was a fondness in Steve's eyes that did not compute.

Steve shook his head in exasperation, a small smile on his lips. “Should I leave you guys to it, or can I take you out to dinner, Tony? I thought we could discuss New Year’s Eve without SHIELD agents lurking around. Especially Natasha. She’ll want to know what we’re talking about just because and then be annoyed at us when she ruins the surprise for herself.”

Naturally – though only God knew how the other Avengers seemed to know the exact moment when Tony was offering to buy things – Natasha, Clint, and Bruce were in the kitchen when Tony and Steve exited the elevator in the communal floor.

“Oh, so we’re all going out?” Tony asked and tried hard to imply how little their company was desired.

Of course, it only made him feel like an asshole when Natasha said, “Clint, Bruce and I should head to SHIELD. They need us.”

Why would they even want Bruce outside of Avengers’ business? Bruce loathed them! Tony quirked an expectant eyebrow at Natasha. Even without Bruce’s rueful smile and Clint’s smirk, Steve had to have noticed Natasha’s blatant attempt at leaving them alone. Natasha never left anyone alone when there was information to be had. Tony looked at Steve to gauge his reaction. He was momentarily mesmerized by Steve’s red cheeks and averted eyes. So proper.

Tony wanted to pinch his red cheeks. And then pinch his ass.

Under Tony’s gaze, Steve mumbled something about getting his wallet, how precious, and headed towards his bedroom.

“Bring me a jacket,” Tony shouted after him. “It’s on my bed.”

After Steve waved in affirmation, Tony turned towards his teammates, if they were even worth the name. “You guys should leave the matchmaking for Lindsey Lohan and her digital twin,” he told them, “because you suck at it.”

“I know what you want to suck,” leered Clint.

Natasha elbowed him in the side, which not only made Clint fall from his perch on the kitchen counter, as it looked like it hurt. “That was juvenile, Barton,” she said with disgust.

Tony was torn between amusement, because they cared, despite the fact that they were emotionally stunted; and annoyance, because he’d never had to deal with this level of people’s investment in his relationships, not even from the press. When Tony thought about what Steve would feel if he knew, annoyance won.

When Steve came back, they all pretended not to be either planning each other’s murder (Natasha, Tony, and Clint) or enjoying the spectacle (Bruce).

“Okay, guys. Do you need anything from us before we go?”

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” protested Tony. Not that Tony thought the Avengers were anything other than children, but really: “We’re going out for dinner, not taking a trip to China!”

“Emergencies happen, Tony,” Steve pointed out sensibly.

Tony scoffed and then said, “I’ll have my phone on. Anything you guys need, either ask J.A.R.V.I.S. or, if he can’t help, call us.”

On their way out, Clint threw after them, “Enjoy your date. You should head to Katz’s Deli. I hope Steve has what she had!”

There weren’t many people alive in the world that could make Tony Stark blush.

Recently, only the blond bombshell frowning over his shoulder. “I didn’t understand that reference,” said Steve when the elevator doors slid close. For some reason, Tony thought that was the cutest thing he had ever heard and this coming from a guy whose biceps often gave men a complex.

*

They didn’t actually go to Katz’s Deli. As for dinner, it was… odd.

It wasn’t often that Tony went out with a buddy from the thirties, so who could blame him if he blinked twice when Steve asked for a single Egg Cream and two straws. Modern days must seem to him a study in consumerism. In a spell of self-awareness, Tony decided not to say anything in case Steve felt self-conscious about it. (Besides, he was kind of enjoying the intimacy of sharing a drink.)

And no one recognized Tony. (Must be the sweatpants.) The shaggy vet in the corner must have recognized Steve as military, because he hunched further into himself, which amounted to a nice dose of realism. It reminded Tony of who they were, despite this attempt at a normal routine. The waiter was lovely and great eye-candy. The food was great. It was cozy.

So Tony should be excused if he let his flirting get away of him.

In truth, they talked about New Year’s Eve—

A simple dinner on Steve and Natasha, both of whom could cook; virgin drinks except for Natasha, Clint and Thor, for whom it might make a difference; forties music with a few of Tony’s classics mixed in for good measure and a Secret Santa exchange, a countdown in two different time zones, even though Natasha would claim not to care.

—but Tony also took the opportunity to badger Steve for personal information until Steve was glowing with happiness.

Steve told Tony old Commandos stories that Tony already knew because Dum Dum Dugan had been his parents’ driver, but which felt different told by Steve. He talked about Aunt Peggy, whose evil eye could make Tony sit quiet until they finished dinner, with nostalgia. And he said, “That’s why I know Bucky’s in NY, Tony. Why I need to find him. I felt,” he paused, eyes cast downwards, “lost. When I woke up. Imagine how he must feel, with the memories Hydra gave him.” Ah, Tony knew something about the ghosts of guilt and atonement. “I need to find him.”

The problem was, “We won’t find him until he lets us.”

When they left the dinner, the mood was somber, but not awkward or tense. Rather, it was intimate.

A couple of blocks from the dinner, as they walked towards Tony’s Audi, Steve and Tony noticed they were being followed.

Steve’s posture went from a lazy slouch to military straight in a blink of an eye. They exchanged a look and Steve gave Tony an imperceptible nod. He returned his gaze to the street ahead of him. Tony felt naked without the suit, as adrenaline started pumping, leaving him jittery. When they reached the end of the street, they casually took a turn into the darkened alley.

The silhouette that was waiting for them was painfully familiar.

The Winter Soldier.

“What you said,” said the Winter Soldier, voice rough from disuse. Tony heard Steve’s breath hitch, but he didn’t give any other sign of distress. “About being lost.”

So he had been the homeless vet next to them at the dinner.

Thinking about it, Tony suspected it wasn’t the first time Barnes followed Steve around.

Like Tony had said, they only noticed him when Barnes wanted them to.

Steve placed himself in front of Tony, the asshole, and said, “Yeah, Bucky. It’s all right.”

Hmm. If that was Steve’s approach, Tony wondered how Barnes hadn’t yet tried to put his fist through Steve’s face. He had probably built a resistance. Tony thought it was best if he intervened, “Hey, Sergeant.”

Without inflection, the Winter Soldier said, “Who’re you.”

“Tony Stark. You met my dad. In fact, I think you might have killed my dad.” The silence that followed was seething tension. Steve might yet punch him. “I think I’m owed something, don’t you? You killed my dad. It’s only fair I get compensation.”

As harsh as the Russian winter, Barnes asked, “What do ye want? My life? It ain’t worth much.”

“Bucky,” Steve said wetly. Oh, Jesus. He was breaking Tony’s heart.

Instead of cuddling Steve against the place where the arc reactor used to be, as he wanted, Tony poked Barnes in the chest. He reeked. Tony told him, “I want you to come with me, buddy. Get out the streets, stop following this mother hen,” he gestured to Steve, “like a baby chick and let us help you. We would make sure you didn’t hurt anyone else.”

“Tony,” Steve protested, taking a step forward, but Tony ignored him.

“Steve knows nothing about being the villain in someone’s story.”

“He doesn’t. He always does the right thing,” said Barnes. He looked lost in memory.

“You know who I am, right?” Tony asked. “You read my file? I was supposed to die too, wasn’t I?” Barnes nodded. “Then you know what I did, what I am. You and I, buddy? We could have done better.” Barnes swallowed thickly. “We still can.”

That was when Barnes staggered into the street light. He looked terrible: dirty hair, messy and uneven, deep bags under his eyes, the look of someone who remembered far too much. As they watched, Barnes slumped against the wall, slid down until he sat on the repugnant floor and sobbed, “Steve.”

The look on Steve’s face then was not one Tony was used to or wanted to see ever again.

Steve Rogers was not supposed to look lost. His eyes were not supposed to look watery. No, Steve Rogers was supposed to wear a lopsided smirk, his eyes crinkling at the corners, always either mischievous or burning with self-righteousness.

Tony had known when he got word of his rescue, that Captain America would turn his head to mush. Captain America had, even before Tony knew what his dick was for, made him want things he knew better than to want or hope for. Even as a kid, he would do the impossible just to prove himself worthy.

Tony hadn't expected his affliction to be so much worse where Steve Rogers was concerned.

In truth, Steve was far less perfect than Captain America and much more compelling because of it. He was the real deal. A supernova: his belief shone bright enough to light up half a galaxy and burned out all the lesser bodies in its wake.

On another hand, Tony was a singularity: consuming everything he got his hands on.

Thor, a somewhat kindred soul in this redemption business, but wiser than Tony would ever grow to be, had told him, "People are not made to be worthy of each other, Man of Iron. People can only do their best by each other and trust each other's judgment. They can only try to be better than their best." Thor might have been talking about Aragorn and Arwen at the time, but who was to say Thor's wisdom wasn't universal?

Tony could try his best as well. (Not that his best had anything on _Aragorn_ 's best, but the guy didn't exist, so. That was a point to Tony.) He could try to make Barnes’ see that, sometimes, doing their best by someone like Steve Rogers was all that they could do for atonement. And, for someone like Steve Rogers, it would be enough.

As Tony kneeled next to Barnes and briefly squeezed his shoulder, Steve called Natasha and Wilson.

The look on his face as he looked between Tony and Barnes.... It was something Tony would keep close for as long as he could.

It started to rain. Steve barely looked away from Barnes’ crumpled form, but he seemed to realize his comfort would be a burden. Unlike just a few moments ago, his eyes burn with purpose. He was mesmerizing. Tony got up and went to stand next to Steve, for his own comfort as much as to give Barnes some space.

What he didn’t expect was Steve swaying slightly into Tony’s side, bringing their shoulders together. Tony saw no reason not to slid his hand into Steve’s and hold on tight. After a moment, Steve warm hand squeezed his back.

* * *

Director Hill and her security team escorted Bucky Barnes into the lower levels of SHIELD, their entourage followed closely by a team of medics. Agent 13, whom Tony knew to be Captain America's former bodyguard, squeezed Steve's arm with a sympathetic smile, promising, "I'll keep you updated, Cap. You should go home."

"I won't go home until he comes with me."

Agent 13 pursed her lips in resignation but nodded and followed after Director Hill.

Steve collapsed on the floor, long legs laid out ahead of him and his head hanging between his shoulders. “Thank you,” he said, lifting his head to look at Tony, “for earlier.”

Only Captain America would feel the need to thank Tony for not being able to mind his own business. “Don’t mention it,” Tony said, taking a seat next to Steve on the floor. Steve scooted sideways and hunched his shoulders so he could lay his head on Tony’s shoulder. Tony hardly dared to breathe, even as he wondered how such a big guy, both in presence and spirit, could try to make himself small.

“I appreciate that you’ve given me a place to stay while I—while I stayed in New York.” Steve had felt he couldn’t keep in imposing on Sam Wilson. Tony was sure Wilson disagreed. Strongly. Tony had even made a bet with himself about it. (If he won, he would flat out ask Steve on a date.) Steve continued, “But now with Bucky… I think I should probably find myself an apartment, maybe in Brookl—.”

Mayday! _Mayday_! “Steve,” Tony started in urgency. “Don’t worry about it. You do whatever you need to do and I’ll just—.”

Steve visibly braced himself. "Tony. I don’t want to be a bother, especially during the holidays," he hesitated, “and especially now.” His hand rested on Tony’s leg briefly before Steve pulled it back to his own lap.

At the sight of Steve’s sudden shyness, Tony became aware of three things. One, Steve was young. Tony had known this, he’d read Steve’s file, but it was the first time he actually saw tangible evidence of it. Two – and this one was a hard pill to swallow – Steve might have been trying to romance Tony for a while now and Tony hadn’t realized. Three, Tony was already scared half to death of this relationship, which had the potential to either be the beginning or end of Tony Stark.

Tony decided to be earnest. "Steve, have you ever known me to do something I didn't want to do?" A sliver of amusement gleamed in Steve's eyes and Tony, ever the addict, had to get more of it. "No, seriously! Think about it. Like, ever? Say, last month?"

Steve snorted, a small smile playing at his lips. "If you're talking about that time you got knocked out in battle against civilians because you _didn’t listen to me_ , you might have a point there." Tony grinned and Steve huffed a laugh, shaking his head at Tony as he did when he thought Tony was being difficult, but amusing. "Thanks, Tony," he added softly.

It made Tony want to do crazy shit like pulling him closer. So he did. (But he didn’t dare to press a kiss to Steve’s blond hair as he wanted.) "Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go wait upstairs. We’ll hold the party until Barnes’ comes up."

As they entered the elevator that would take them home, Steve reached for Tony’s hand. Okay. Tony could make a habit out of this.

*

In the end, Tony didn't even remember _The Hobbit: Battle of Five Armies_ until it was already the 11 th. 

*

Weeks later, save for the odd one-line report from Agent 13, there wasn’t any change to Winter Soldier’s status.

It was heard through the grapevine (re: Clint) that Fury had even come back to manage the situation.

Tony didn’t know and he didn’t care. If they wanted money or geeks, he would hand them over, but he was more concerned about Steve. And he wasn’t the only one. 

Steve was sitting on Tony's couch, when the other Avengers trickled into Tony's penthouse, as they had been doing all week. They had given up on subterfuge when Steve had said, on day two, with the kindest of smiles, “Thanks, guys. For your support.”

On that particular Wednesday, Clint brought his game console and video games. Bruce brought pizza, with a side of garlic bread just for Steve. Thor brought his wisdom and silent support. (And also his Steampunk/Victorian fashion sense, which was both impossible to ignore and hot as hell.) Natasha brought her cushy hugs – Steve had probably sold his soul for those – and news, "Sam is with him right now, Steve. Last week, Sharon suggested the presence of a certified veteran's counselor. We insisted on Sam Wilson."

Steve seemed to have deflated with relief. "That's—that's good news, Nat. Thanks."

Natasha smiled thinly.

"Hey, guys," called Clint from where he was fiddling with Tony's flat screen.

"What the fuck are you doing with my wires, Barton?"

"What?" Clint looked down at the tangled wires in his lap and had the decency of looking sheepish. "I was trying to connect my XBOX, but—."

"What was it, Clint?" interrupted Natasha, clearly running out of patience for them.

"Oh, nothing.... It’s just,” he pointed at the TV, “it's New Year's Eve."

On Tony's flat screen, the entrance to Stark Mansion was littered with all the assholes Tony didn't want to spend New Year's with, but whose money apparently he needed, according to Pepper. Pepper herself looked amazing on Happy’s arm and black heels that had likely costed Tony a lot of money. Happy looked like the besotted idiot he was. Well. Not that Tony could talk. "That's the _Maria Stark Foundation New Year's Gala_."

"Now that's a mouthful," said Bruce. Tony grinned at him.

"Shouldn't you be there?" asked Natasha, quirking an eyebrow.

Tony suspected she was probably envisioning all the ways Pepper was going to eviscerate him for missing the gala. Since Pepper was very good at what she did, she hadn’t even sent him an invitation. Tony wouldn’t have gone anyway. (Tony felt like his life was half-circle away from where he began. He trusted Pepper with Stark Industries like he hadn’t trusted Obi. He had Steve instead of Pepper, so different they were almost alike. Instead of groupies, he now had friends on his couch for New Year’s Eve. Instead of vodka, he was drinking orange juice.)

"Nope,” he replied, “Avengers' business." So saying, he placed his hand on Steve’s back. Steve’s expression, as he looked up at Tony, was like a balm for the healing soul. Tony was sure Steve’s smile would taste better than molasses cookies.

As if Director Hill's six sense for Tony's happiness had gone off, both Natasha and Steve's communicators beeped. After all, Tony Stark did not deserve happiness. His bad mood evaporated when Steve's expression shuttered closed as he checked his messages. At his side, all the emotion drained from Natasha's face.

"Nat?" asked Clint.

"They are allowing the Winter Soldier to spend New Year's Eve in Captain America’s custody."

Steve looked at Tony. He was biting his lip in hesitation. “Tony, I can’t ask you to—.”

Tony wasn’t going to hear it. "So you guys know how we never got to spend Christmas together? I never got to give you your presents." Steve was frowning at him. But, before he could start protesting or making decisions, Tony reached into his housecoat and retrieved the envelope he had placed there a few days back. Inside, there were magnetic cards, which he handed to each of them.

When it was his turn, Steve tried again, "Tony, I don’t expect you to—."

Tony took two cards from the envelope and handed them over, effectively silencing Steve. "Your floor is a duplex. The lower level has reinforced security measures. It's not quite as cozy as your quarters or the others', since I didn't know what he’d want in his room. I thought I should let you take care of that with him."

Eyes wide, Steve clutched the cards in his big hand. "Tony," Steve said wetly.

Tony smiled lopsidedly. “Don’t mention it, Cap.”

With a choked-off sound, Steve grabbed Tony by the back of the neck and pulled him in, mashing their lips together. It wasn’t much of a kiss as it was breathing into each other’s mouths. As long as Tony could get his hands on Steve’s ass, who cared? Not Tony. Tony wanted everything of Steve, even the air in his lungs. When Tony's hands found his waist, Steve pulled back and leaned their foreheads together.

“Jesus wept, Rogers, what was that?”

Steve jumped at the question, whirling around to look in the direction of the elevator. Barnes was standing just inside the den, looking dead on his feet, but clean and as healthy as expected. There was awareness in his eyes that had barely been there last time. “Bucky!” Steve exclaimed breathlessly. The most fetching blush spread through his cheeks, neck and ears. Tony wondered how low it went. “I wasn’t—this is Tony.”

“Your fellow, I’m not stupid,” Barnes interrupted with a roll of his eyes. “I wonder how long it’ll be like that with you kissing him as if you'd never kissed a person in your life.”

Steve’s blush seemed to darken, so Tony took pity on him. “I know enough for both of us, buddy,” he told Barnes.

The look in Barnes’ eyes darkened. “Don't I know it, pal,” he growled.

Oh, right. Tony had been a target once.

Steve looked between them urgently and, going by the fake cough Tony had heard just a moment ago, Bruce seemed to find the situation fit for his entertainment.

When the mood reached the peak of awkwardness, Tony blurted, “I made you a house!” Barnes blinked. “Next to Steve’s.”

Steve nodded eagerly. “He did. It’s great! We can live together except we’ll have some decent space this time around.” He grinned.

Barnes blinked. “Pal, I just saw you kissing Stark’s son. We can have this conversation later.”

So they did.

Later on, Tony was sitting at the bar nursing his fifth glass of orange juice when Bruce appeared in his line of sight. Together, they looked over at the balcony where Steve and Barnes could be seen holding each other. They were talking softly and had been since the beginning of the New Year. Sam Wilson, who had shown up a few minutes after Barnes, Natasha, Clint and Thor were arguing over the XBOX.

“You know what I was thinking about?” Tony asked Bruce.

Bruce made a questioning noise. “What?”

"I think the rest of my life started tonight.”

Bruce huffed a laugh, patted Tony in the back, and held out his own tumbler glass for more orange juice.

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, bets and battlefields, and my mind was straight to Pelennor Fields. Then I needed an idiot who would actually go there and there they were, so perfect: Hawkeye vs Deadpool. This means I brought a bit of Earth-616 to the MCU. Oopsie! On an ending note: I was a bit late with this, I'm very sorry about that. I hope you enjoyed it, Cameron. And everyone else, too!


End file.
